Nothing Is Impossible
by PotterheadWhovian7
Summary: -Daily advent thing!- It's Christmas time, and Sherlock is still gone. Will John have to try to survive another Christmas alone, or will his best friend show up unexpected? -I will update everyday this month until Christmas. Beware of fluffiness! T for mild cursing later on. Also, Johnlock in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

John was sitting on his chair, a cup of cold tea in his lap. He was simply sitting there, staring at Sherlock's empty space.

John did that a lot these days. He would just sit there for hours, lost in thought. Sometimes silent tears rolled down his face. Mrs. Hudson had walked in sometimes, only to hurry out. She didn't like seeing John like that. She had tried to move on from Sherlock. Slowly, she was coping. But John wasn't getting any better.

Mrs. Hudson had to take care of John. He forgot to eat, sleep, and exercise. If she had not been there to help him, he probably would just sit on his chair all day.

John was drenched in grief. He missed Sherlock so much. Every time he thought of those cheekbones, the bright eyes, the violin playing... It felt like something was squeezing his heart.

That is, if he had a heart left. His heart had shattered the moment Sherlock fell off of that building. His heart broke in to a billion little pieces, never to be repaired.

The only way John would go back to normal is if Sherlock came back.

But that wasn't going to happen. It couldn't happen.

It was impossible.

"_Nothing is impossible,"_ Sherlock whispered from outside, staring sadly at the familiar window from the street below.


	2. Chapter 2

Half a year later on the 2nd of December, John walked out of Speedy's Restaurant with a bag of take-out food. Mrs. Hudson had insisted that he eat something, and he hadn't felt like fixing food for himself.

As he exited the store, he ran in to someone.

"Sorry," John apologized quickly, not looking up.

"It's alright, John," a familiar voice replied.

John looked up sharply. No. It couldn't be possible. He was hallucinating. yes, that was it. All of this was fake.

Sherlock watched as all of this went through John's head. Sherlock knew that telling John he was alive wouldn't be easy, and he didn't mean for it to go like this. He was just about to go in to the flat when John ran in to him.

John took a frightened step back from the taller man. "I- I-"

"John, I can assure you that I am real. I'm here. It's me, Sherlock Homes. Consulting Detective- The only one in the world." Sherlock reached forward and lightly touched John's shoulder.

John shook the hand off and took another step back, shaking his head. "No. You were _dead_."

Sherlock took a step closer. "I'm alive. It was a fake, John. I had to disappear, to die-"

"NO YOU DIDN'T! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO LEAVE ME ALONE FOR TWO YEARS! YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME YOU WERE ALIVE!" John shouted, his anger getting the best of him.

Luckily, not many people were around, so no one saw this.

John punched Sherlock, right on the jaw. Sherlock stumbled back, touching the sore spot tenderly.

John regretted what he had done as soon as he saw the pain in Sherlock's eyes. For the first time, John noticed various cuts and bruises on the other man's body- some were still bleeding.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Come on, come inside..." John trailed off, unlocking the door to 221B.

John led Sherlock in to the flat and grabbed the first-aid kit, while Sherlock looked around.

"You... didn't move anything."

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I couldn't bring myself to touch anything," John replied.

Sherlock took advantage of this moment of calmness to study John. His old flatmate was thinner than before, and it looked like he'd been sleeping less. John's limp was back, worse than before, and Sherlock could tell in the look in John's eyes that he also had trust issues again.

John also used this time to study his friend. Sherlock also looked tired and hungry, and had lots of untreated injuries that needed attention. The way Sherlock held his left wrist made John think it could be sprained or broken.

John sighed as he finally saw the extent of Sherlock's injuries. This would take a while, and then they needed to talk.


	3. Chapter 3

After John finished bandaging Sherlock up, he led the taller man to the sofa and sat him down.

"So, now are you going to tell me why the bloody hell you jumped off a building?" John asked, rather rudely.

Sherlock sighed. "John, I really can not-"

"Don't even think about telling me you can't tell me. I'm your best friend and I deserve to know why I had to go through _three years_ of not knowing you were alive, three years of loneliness, and three years of pure LIVING HELL."

Sherlock was rather taken aback. It had been bad enough to not be able to talk with his friend during that time, but he had never stopped to think about what it had been like for John.

"John... I'm sorry."

"I know. I've heard excuses before. I want to know what drove you to jump off of the roof."

Sherlock sighed. He deserved everything John threw at him.

"I mean, Sherlock, really. Three years is a long time. I want to know what happened."

"John... please. Stop." Sherlock replied, sounding tired.

John stopped. He knew he was being to rude, but his emotions were running to high right now.

"Alright. We can just... talk about it later, I guess?" John said, trying to stay calm.

Sherlock nodded and they both went their separate ways, even though they both wanted to stay, to make sure the other existed and that they weren't dreaming, they both left.

John laid in his bed, exhausted. He had such a tiring day- but that was to be expected when your friend _came back to life_.

John buried his head in his pillow, some tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His life was so confusing. Why couldn't he have a normal life, without fingers in the refrigerator and psychotic flatmates?

But looking back, he wouldn't give it up for the world. It was all worth it to have Sherlock in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I'm having some writer's block with this, but as promised, I'm updating every day. Things should start to pick up soon. Reviews would be lovely. Onward!**

In the middle of the night, Sherlock woke up to screams ripping through the calmness of the flat. He immediately bolted up and went to find John.

Sherlock rushed up the stairs and in to John's bedroom. The shorter man was curled up on his side, sobbing. He was still asleep and was twisted about the covers.

"John," Sherlock said, shaking his flatmate's shoulder. "John, wake up! It's just a nightmare!"

John bolted up with a yell. He had been having lots of nightmares since the Fall. John was surprised to see Sherlock in his bedroom for a moment, then he remembered yesterday.

Sherlock was relieved that John was okay, but didn't let it show on his face. He had learned a long time ago that emotions can be betraying.

Sherlock straightened up. "Breakfast?"

"Sure," John replied, trying not to let his voice shake.

After a rather small breakfast of toast, jam, and tea, the two sat down on the sofa.

"Sherlock... what happened to you? In those three years, I mean. Your scars..." John asked timidly.

"I don't want to talk about it," Sherlock replied, perhaps a bit to fast.

John nodded. He understood. He hadn't wanted to talk about the war, but he knew that talking would help Sherlock. So he left it how it was for the time being, planning to talk about it later.

"So... What now?" John asked. Sherlock was basically trapped in 221B- no one knew he was alive yet, save John. He knew Sherlock would quickly get bored of this. But they both needed to work out how life was going to be. It couldn't go back to normal, at least not yet. It was to soon for that. They both needed to heal.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ugh. I'm having a lot of trouble writing this. I kinda just want to start over, but I'll try to continue.**

Sherlock was going crazy from being cooped up in the flat all day. He shot things, ventured into his mind palace, talked incessantly, and greatly annoyed John. Finally, John decided that it was time for Sherlock to get some air.

"Alright, Sherlock, we're going out."

"Where?" came the immediate, excited reply.

"To visit some friends," John replied.

John knew that Mycroft knew that Sherlock was alive. Sherlock had told John that the only ones that knew Sherlock was alive were John, Mrs. Hudson (they had told her) Molly, and Mycroft. Mycroft helped with the finding and imprisoning of the gunmen, and Molly helped Sherlock fake his death. So, John decided that they would visit Lestrade.

When they got to Scotland Yard, Sherlock had to turn up his coat collar and wrap his scarf higher up his face, so no one would recognize him. They quickly went down to Lestrade's office.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked, taking his feet off the desk and eating a donut. John rarely saw anyone those days, and Lestrade was glad the man had come to seek him out himself.

John turned to Sherlock. "Umm... This is..." he trailed off.

Sherlock turned down his collar and Lestrade dropped his donut.

"What... the... bloody hell," he said looking between them, shocked. "Nope. That's it. I'm insane." The look on his face was priceless, and John was tempted to take a picture, but thought better of it.

"But... you... him... What the f..." Lestrade trailed off.

"Alright. Before you knock yourself out, I'll explain," Sherlock said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. This would take awhile...


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I realize that John didn't have a big enough reaction to Sherlock being back. I just wanted him to calm down a bit to heal Sherlock, then he stayed that way... ah, well. I might rewrite this one day. Also, i cut this one short because it's really late and I have a huge test tomorrow. Onwards!**

After getting certain matters cleared up with Lestrade, Sherlock went back to 221B while John went out to the shops. He bought some food and Christmas decorations. He also bought a small Christmas tree.

When he got back to the flat, Sherlock was lightly dozing on the couch.

"I'm back," John announced. Sherlock simply cracked one eye open, gave a little 'hmm', then closed his eyes again. John put the groceries away then sat beside Sherlock on the sofa.

They both sat there for a few minutes, doing nothing. Then, John got up an stretched.

"I'm headed to bed, Sherlock."

"Mmhmm."

John rolled his eyes and walked out of the living room, towards his bedroom. He changed clothes and climbed in to bed, desperately hoping that he wouldn't have another nightmare.


	7. Chapter 7

John woke up the next day in a cold sweat. Luckily, the nightmare hadn't been about his best friend jumping off a rooftop- this time, it had been Afghanistan. He hadn't been able to save a man with dark, curly hair. The man had been shot in the chest right in front of John.

Shaking these thoughts out of his head, John stood up and stretched. His back cracked, and he made his way downstairs. Sherlock was already up and making tea for them both.

"John... How's your leg?" Sherlock asked, trying to sound casual.

"Oh. It's um, it's fine, now." The way John phrased it, Sherlock could tell that it had been bad when he was gone.

Sherlock also knew John had trust issues. He had eating disorders and PTSD symptoms again. Sherlock had seen how thin John was, and how he flinched slightly when a stranger talked to him. John had been having flashbacks, nightmares, trouble sleeping, and other symptoms of PTSD.

Sherlock knew all of this- it was obvious. But what wasn't obvious to John was the scars up Sherlock's back, the needle marks on his arm, and the tender, rather large bruise on his leg.

Sherlock had been tortured while he was gone. He had fought gunmen, brought some of them to Mycroft to take care of, even resorted to killing some of them- but he had also been tortured.

Of course, Sherlock didn't want John to know. It was natural- hiding the burns and cuts. But he had to tell his flatmate eventually. He decided now would be the best time.

"John... can we... talk?" Sherlock asked cautiously.

"Sure," John replied.

So Sherlock told John the story. Of the kidnapping and the pain and the torturing. John sat there, taking it all in. When Sherlock finally finished his story, John let out a rush of air.

"Wow, Sherlock... I never new."

They both sat there in silence for a while, before John got up and embraced Sherlock in a hug.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," John muttered in Sherlock's ear. He knew how much pain Sherlock had been in, and how hard it was to confess that.

They stood there for a couple of minutes, breathing in each other's scent.

Finally, they pulled back and looked each other in the eye. Sherlock knew John had been through some trouble while he was gone, but he could take his time.

**A/N: Alright! I felt guilty about the last chapter being so short, so this one is much longer. Tomorrow, decorating! I'll take any suggestions into consideration! Please review! **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: If you remember, a couple of chapters back, I think I mentioned John buying a tree, that's why they decorate it in this chap but don't buy one. Onwards!**

"But it's Christmas, Sherlock! We have to decorate!"

"It is not Christmas, it is only December 8th. And I refuse to put idiotic lights all about the flat simply because it is winter."

"It's not idiotic! it's decorations!" This feud had been going on for about half and hour, and John was beginning to get tired of it.

"Alright, you know what? If you don't decorate with me, then I will show Lestrade, Molly, and Mycroft of that picture of you-"

"Alright! I'll do it!" Sherlock replied exasperatedly.

A few minutes later, they had lights strewn across the floor in an attempt to untangle them for the Christmas tree.

"I really do not see the purpose of this," Sherlock muttered, but continued to put the ornaments on the tree. John smiled at him, hearing this, but didn't stop what he was doing.

By the time night had fallen, there were many Christmas lights brightening the windows of 221B. A wreath was on the front door, and Mrs. Hudson had slipped some mistletoe over the couch. Both men refused to go near it.

John lay in bed that night, feeling satisfied that he had won at least this this time.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, all! I was wondering if anyone wants to beta any of my stories. Maybe make them sound more British, seeing as I'm very much American. Also, tell me if you guys want a kiss scene at the end of the story- I'm wondering if I should keep them just as friends or make it more Johnlock-y. All suggestions are welcome and considered! Please review! Onwards!**

The next day, it was cold and windy outside. Glad to not have a case to worry about, John started a warm fire while Sherlock played his violin.

As the sweet, sad music drifted through the flat, John stuck some cookies in the oven. As they baked, John sat down on his chair and grabbed his laptop. He loved all of the danger, adventures, crime, and running- but sometimes, this was all he wanted. A warm fire, comfy chair, and music.

He went through his emails. Nothing interesting there. He went to his blog and read through some of the earlier cases that he had written up. Each one filled him with wonderful memories. He desperately hoped a case would come up soon, for both his and Sherlock's sanity.

Sherlock's song suddenly picked up and sounded much happier as he sat next to John. His fingers flying over the strings, the bow grinding up and down the instrument- it was amazing what he could do.

The oven beeped and John stood to get the cookies. They smelled delicious, and he popped one in to his mouth. Closing his eyes at the taste, he wandered his way back to his chair and offered some cookies to Sherlock.

This was going to be a relaxing Christmas. For once.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is a bit more Johnlock-y. Enjoy!**

John was having another nightmare. He gripped the sheets as his brain took his strongest fears and most terrifying memories and turned them in to a fake- yet harsh- reality.

"_SHERLOCK!" John yelled, his voice cracking, as he watched his one good friend plummet down towards the ground. He ran forwards, getting back up when he was knocked over by the biker, slightly disoriented. _

_He appeared by sherlock's side, resisting the hands that tried to pull him away. They didn't understand... That was Sherlock, lying on the ground._

_John reached for Sherlock's wrist, trying to get a pulse. When he didn't feel one, he let the stranger's hands pull him back._

_He couldn't breath. Sherlock was gone. But, he couldn't be. He was _Sherlock_. He never left. He couldn't die..._

John bolted up in his bed with a strangled yell. He was tangled in the sheets, breathing hard and fast. He buried his face in his hands, letting out a few wet sobs.

OoOoOoOoO

Sherlock sat up abruptly when he heard John yell his name. He strode towards the door, wondering what was going on. He stopped, however, when he reached the door to John's bedroom, and heard quiet crying.

Sherlock has never liked emotions. He found them unnecessary, and a bit uncomfortable at times.

But Sherlock knew he had caused this nightmare of John's. He knew John had been hiding something ever since he came back- and he'd almost defiantly been dealing with this before- and he wanted to help John with it.

So, taking a deep breath, Sherlock turned the knob to John's room and walked in.

"John, are... Are you okay?" Sherlock asked timidly.

John looked up at Sherlock, sniffed, and wiped the tears off his face. "Yeah, I-I'm okay," he replied hoarsely.

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I mean are you really okay."

John slowly shook his head. "I-I've been having nightmares since... well... and I'm used to them, Sherlock, I'm really fine..."

Sherlock frowned. He knew John wasn't really fine. If he was having flashbacks and nightmares these severe, there was a problem. No wonder John had been looking so tired...

"I'm staying in here tonight," Sherlock concluded his thoughts.

John looked startled. "Umm, excuse me?"

"You obviously can't sleep with nightmares, and seeing how bad these are, you will most likely have another one tonight. So, logically, I should stay with you, to make sure you don't have any more." Without waiting for a reply from John, he slid under the covers and curled up on his side, staring in to John's eyes.

John cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. He turned on to his back, so they weren't staring right at each other. He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing in to the clawing fingers of sleep.

OoOoOoOoO

A few hours later, John woke up to a warm body pressed against his. He breathed in the scent that could only be described as _Sherlock_. He happily turned his face towards Sherlock's and buried his face in the taller man's shoulder.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello again! So, I didn't get any reviews, so I've decided that this will eventually turn into a Johnlock fic. My first time posting one, so I hope it goes well! If any of you who followed it before I changed the genre want to unfollow, I fully understand this this is not everyone's OTP. Anyways, just thought I'd let you guys know! Onwards!**

John walked in to the flat with a bag full of clothes. He had gone shopping to get more Christmas clothes for him and Sherlock.

Of course, he had bought himself more jumpers- and, just for fun, had gotten Sherlock some, as well. he knew his flat mate would probably hate it, but... oh, well.

These jumpers were very bright and Christmas-y. They were colored bright green, red, and silver. The one that was John's size had Santa's face on the front, while Sherlock's had a reindeer.

"Sherlock!" John called out, putting the bag down on his chair and shuffling through it.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied, emerging from his bedroom.

"I bought you something!" John said, holding up Sherlock's jumper.

Sherlock stared at it in surprise. He had never seen an article of clothing so... unique.

"Well, then, put it on," said John throwing it to him, then turning to pull on his own.

Sherlock didn't want to- it was hideous, after all- but did it anyway, for John's sake.

It fit Sherlock quite nicely. He wouldn't wear it often- most likely, only this once- but when/if he did, he would be comfortable.

John smiled as he saw Sherlock in his jumper. Before the detective looked, he quickly whipped out his phone, took a picture, and sent it to Lestrade.

Scotland Yard would enjoy this one.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I think most of you watch Doctor Who, or at least know about it, but if you don't: It's a wonderful show about a time/space travelling alien (known as a Time Lord) who is the last of his species. He travels in a blue London Police Box that's bigger on the inside. He often travels with a human companion. Also, I'm not insane.  
Onwards!**

"I really don't understand why you enjoy this show."

"It's a good show!"

"No, it's not. The plot doesn't work, it incinerates the laws of physics, and the characters are completely unbelievable."

"Doctor Who is an amazing show!"

John and Sherlock were arguing about the alien show throughout the commercials. Sherlock found it confusing and pointless. If John could be in love with a fictional character, the Doctor would be the one.

'The Christmas Invasion' was the episode on- a Christmas special about an alien race called the Sycorax trying to take over London.

"But it doesn't make sense! How in world can someone grow their hand back!?"

"He's not human. Now hush, it's back on." John said, annoyed. Sherlock always wanted John's attention, no matter what was going on- unless there was a case on.

After a few minutes, Sherlock huffed and got up from his chair. Bored, he walked over to John and- for some reason unknown to any sane person- sat on John.

John gave him an odd look and moved to the side a bit. He was so used to Sherlock's odd actions by now he didn't even question them anymore.

Sherlock wiggled his bum a bit and settled more comfortably on John. The ex-army doctor merely sighed and peered around the tall man-child.

"Sherlock, just enjoy the show," John told his exasperatedly. Sherlock huffed again and relaxed into John's chest.

A few hours later, John switched off the TV and carefully got up from the chair. He pulled a blanket over the sleeping consulting detective and turned off the lights, whispering a quiet "Goodnight, Sherlock," before ascending the stairs to his bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13

The man walked towards Sherlock with a sharp knife and a menacing sneer. He had tied Sherlock up. The knife glinted in the soft moonlight as the man came closer. Then, with a sudden movement, he raked the knife across Sherlock's back. The tall man tried not to wince as blood seeped from the wound and down his back. He let out a strangled yell, however, when the knife was embedded in his arm, and sat up with a jolt.

It had all been a dream. It had happened, yes, but near the beginning of the three years away from John.

Sherlock was wrapped up in his sheets, covered in cold sweat. Rubbing a shaky hand over his eyes, he tried to calm his nerves. After a few minutes, he stood up and walked in to the living room.

John was in there. He was on his laptop once again. He looked up when his flatmate walked in.

"Hey, Sherlock."

The detective didn't reply. John sighed and looked up from his computer. "Alright, What is it now?"

Sherlock looked up from where he was sitting. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Sherlock. You're sweating, paler than usual, your eyes are red, and you're shaking a bit," John replied, giving Sherlock a look.

Sherlock felt a bit of pride flutter in his chest for a moment before replying. "Um, yes. Well... I had a... nightmare."

John looked in to Sherlock's eyes for a moment before getting up and sitting next to his best friend, embracing him in a hug. John felt the taller man stiffen for a moment, the relax. John knew Sherlock had been tortured in the years he was gone, and wanted to help him through this in every way he can. They'd get through this together.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I was wondering if you guys wanted me to add an extra chapter on New Years Eve. Hmm... Anyways, hello to my new French reviewer! I hope this isn't to hard to read! Onwards!**

John had dragged Sherlock all over London to get gifts for Christmas. They had bought things for Molly (cat toys), Lestrade (a new tie), and Mrs. Hudson (a new sweater). Now, John had dragged Sherlock in to another shop to buy gifts from each other.

Sherlock was probably the hardest person to buy a gift for. The only thing he really cared about was a murder, and John couldn't get that for him- well, at least not legally.

John finally chose a book on poisons. Hopefully, Sherlock wouldn't use this to poison John.

John joined his flatmate in front of the store and together, they set off down the road, looking for a cab. It was dark already, and was beginning to rain.

Finally, they found a cab. John was exhausted, wet, and hungry. He climbed in, told the cabbie the address, and closed his eyes with a sigh. His eyes were begging for sleep, and his head seemed to pound with each beat of his heart.

A few minutes later, Sherlock looked up from his phone in surprise. John had fallen asleep, and leaned against Sherlock. John's breath fluttered Sherlock's long hair lightly, sending shivers down his back.

The cab stopped in front of 221B, and Sherlock quickly paid the fine and stepped out of the cab, pulling a half-asleep John with him.

When they arrived in the living room, Sherlock laid John down on the sofa, covered the ex-army doctor with a blanket, and went off to his room. John needed his rest. Christmas was coming up soon, after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: My condolences to all of the people killed in Connecticut and their families. My heart goes out to you. **

**On another note, this chapter has subtle hints of Johnlock. More next chappie! Sorry if this and the last chapter seem a bit rushed- my family wants to spend time with me. I went christmas shopping today. Please excuse any typos and OOC people! Thank you to my new reviewer! Onwards!**

John walked in to the flat with the groceries. He went to put them away, but had to stop when he almost knocked over a test tube.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, putting the bags down on the only available surface- the floor.

"Yes?" the taller man replied, walking in to the kitchen from his bedroom.

"I thought we had an agreement, about this," John told him, gesturing to the experiments laid all over the kitchen.

"Oh! I forgot about that," Sherlock said, running about, collecting the various buckets, pans, and bottles. John watched him move around the kitchen curiously.

"What are these for? I mean, not for cases. We haven't gone public yet."

"I get bored easily, John. And I do not think Mrs. Hudson would enjoy anymore bullets in her wall."

John smirked in a very John-like way and nodded in agreement. "We need to tell the world soon, at least. Can't keep you cooped up here forever."

"Yes, but not yet. Society is so... odd."

John snorted. "Yeah, I can agree with _that_."

After Sherlock put the experiments away, they put the food away together. Their finger brushed, sending butterflies to John's stomach and making John blush slightly. Why was he feeling like this? He didn't feel this strongly for Sherlock before the Fall. He felt this occasionally, no doubting that, but now it was stronger...

Oh, well. Another adventure to embark on.


	16. Chapter 16

A few hours later, John had gotten a fire going and had the kettle boiling. He sat down on the sofa, staring into the dancing flames. They cast a soft light throughout the flat. Sherlock picked up his cup and sat next to John.

After he finished his drink, Sherlock put the cup down and laid across the sofa, his head resting on John's lap.

John's hands naturally found their way into Sherlock's long, dark hair. It was surprisingly soft and fluffy. He ran his hands through the dark locks.

Sherlock closed his eyes in pleasure as the familiar hands played through his hair. John's hands played gentle patterns across Sherlock's head. John's hands started massaging Sherlock's temple, and the taller man moaned quietly with pleasure.

John's skilled hands flew over his flatmate's head, and he smiled softly as he felt Sherlock relax. He worked his fingers through the detective's hair and massaged all of the worries out of his brain.

A few minutes later, John pulled his hands away and laid back against the sofa. Sherlock turned on his side, still laying across John's lap. Sleepily, Sherlock grasped John's hand in his own.

Sherlock yawned widely, and John pulled him up beside him. Wrapping his arms around the tall man, John buried his face in Sherlock's neck, breathing in Sherlock's smell. It was a perfect combination of cinnamon, paper, and something else John couldn't identify- simply Sherlock.

Sherlock dozed lightly against John. He hadn't been this relaxed in ages. Nothing could beat snuggling with John by the fire with tea.

He might just enjoy Christmas this year.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'm sorry this is so short. It's just really late, and I'm tired. I feel like I might be making a bit of a big deal about this going public thing, but oh well! Onwards!**

"BORED!" Sherlock yelled, shooting the wall. John had been surprised that he lasted this long, but that didn't make it anymore pleasant.

"Sherlock! I told you not to touch my gun!" John reprehended him sternly, taking the gun out of the detective's hand.

Sherlock scowled at John and sulked on the sofa. "I. Don't. Care."

John sighed. He knew this would happen. "You want a case, don't you?"

Sherlock nodded mutely.

John sat next to the child-like man and said, "Well, you know what that means."

Sherlock paused. It had been nice to let society think he was dead so he could continue his life as normally as possible.

He sat up and started pacing. It wasn't because he was thinking or nervous, he just needed _something_ to do. He wanted a cigarette, but John would have gotten rid of all of those.

He sighed over-dramatically and turned to John. "I need a case. I don't care what it takes. I need something to do."

John stared in to Sherlock's blue-gray eyes as his phone chimed. Taking it out of his pocket, he read the text from Mycroft in his head.

_I agree that it is time to do something. I can try to help as much as I can, but I cannot guarantee everything will go as planned. -MH_


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock logged on to John's Facebook and posted the following:

_Everything that happened at St. Barts was a lie. I am alive. -SH_

He then posted the same on John's blog, and The Science of Deduction. He called the news and emailed the newspaper companies. Finally, he sat back, turned on the TV, and waited for the explosion.

Suddenly, the normal new report stopped and switched to another new anchor, the phone started ringing, and John walked in to the flat.

"I see you did it, then?"

Sherlock simply nodded and continued to watch the news. It proceeded to show John's Facebook page, their blogs, and the email sent to the newspapers.

"We have no information yet on whether this is a fraud or not..." Sherlock sighed and muttered something about everyone needed proof, and left the flat. Looking vaguely surprised, John sat down on his chair and watched the news as Sherlock appeared on the screen.

"Hello, world. I am alive. That's all you need to know." He then walked off the screen again to an unknown location. A few moments later, Sherlock came back in the flat and sat down. John was staring at him with a slightly opened mouth.

"What?"

Hm? Oh, nothing," John replied, tearing his eyes away. They sat in silence for a few moments before Mrs. Hudson came to the door.

"Sherlock, dear, there's a crowd of people outside the door. Should I let them in?"

"No, that's fine, Mrs. Hudson. Just leave them, they'll go away," Sherlock told her, and John couldn't help but notice how he talked about society like they were an annoying spider or something. He held in a chuckle.

"What?" Sherlock asked, looking at him oddly.

"Nothing, nothing." John replied, going over to the kitchen and putting the kettle on. The comments on his blog will be interesting...


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: This ends in a meh-ish cliffhangers. I haven't really gotten the hang of those yet. Don't worry, John's just tired. He'll come back.**

**Eventually.**

John woke up the next day blearily. He hadn't slept well, but he could tell from the light coming through his curtains that it was time to feed Sherlock.

Appearing in the doorway and rubbing his eyes tiredly, John yawned and Sherlock looked up from softly strumming on his violin.

"Hey, Sherlock," John mumbled.

The detective glanced up and cocked an eyebrow. "Up late?"

John grunted in response and started fixing breakfast. He wasn't really in the talkative mood. Too bad Sherlock was, probably for the first time in his life.

Sherlock got up and sauntered over to John. He milled around, getting in John's way and being an annoying pest.

"What are you doing?" John asked, reaching around the tall man.

"I'm bored. There's still no cases. You told me there would be cases, John!" the actually-five-year-old detective whined.

John gently pushed him aside and grabbed the jam. Sherlock sat on the counted and watched John with glaring eyes. "You said there'd be cases."

"No, I didn't. I never said anything like that! Lestrade just couldn't give you any because you were 'dead'. Just because you told the public you're alive doesn't mean that every criminal in London will suddenly started killing people."

Sherlock sighed in annoyance and stood up. "Come on, John. We're going out."

John stopped what he was doing and stared at his flatmate. "You know what? This is what I hate. I hate it when you are always controlling me, pulling me everywhere for no reason at all. So, you know what? I'm out. Not forever, but... I just need a break."

Sherlock frowned at this sudden outburst. "But... John... I..."

"No! You're controlling my life! Even when you were dead," John voice cracked on the word, "you were controlling me! I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I could barely _live_. I'm leaving. Goodbye, Sherlock," and without waiting to change his mind, John ran upstairs, pulled on some clothes, put some necessary items in a bag, and left 221B.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Okay! I'm actually really proud of this chapter! Almost Johnlock- almost. I'm keeping you guys waiting for a while, aren't I? Anyways, thank you for the wonderful reviews! Onwards!**

Sherlock stared at the door for a few minutes before falling back in his chair. John... was gone. He couldn't believe it. John was rock, always there, caring for him and saving him. But now...

Of course, he said he would come back. But still. Sherlock hated being alone more than being bored. Before John, he had almost killed himself from lack of sleep and eating, along with the occasional drug- whenever Mycroft wasn't watching. He couldn't live being alone.

With a broken sob, wondering what he'd done to deserve this, Sherlock buried his head in his hands and let a solitary tear fall from his icy blue eyes.

John checked in to a hotel. He was too tired to think of anything else. He stared at his feet as he walked into his room and guilt racked his body.

He knew he shouldn't have left Sherlock. The man couldn't live on his own for too long, he was as reliant on John as John was on him. They were like am mutation- Sherlock and John. They couldn't be separated.

John didn't really know why he left. He was just so tired and needing a break. He hoped Sherlock hadn't taken it too badly.

Deciding to call his flatmate the next morning, John went to sleep.

OoOoOoO

The next day, Sherlock jumped up abruptly as his phone chimed. A grin spread over his face as he saw who it was from.

_I'm sorry about yesterday. I was just tired. I'll be home in about an hour. -JW_

Relief coursed through Sherlock's heart. He was almost dizzy with happiness- John was coming back. He wiped a tear from his face- why was he crying again?- and prepared breakfast for his flatmate. He decided not to drug John's coffee again.

Later, John came in through the door with bags of food and a slightly nervous look upon his face. He had never gotten a text back from Sherlock, and was slightly apprehensive about what the detective's reaction would be.

John was surprised as his best friend wrapped his arms around the shorter man. He dropped all the bags and hugged Sherlock back, relishing in the rare showing of emotions.

Sherlock hugged John tightly and buried his face in the ex-army doctor's sandy blonde hair. He never wanted to let John go. He grasped John almost fiercely and dug his hands into the shorter man's back, crying softly.

John looked up, startled to feel tears rolling down Sherlock's cheek. "Oh, Sherlock..." John murmured, wiping the wet tears away. He looked in to Sherlock's beautiful eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

Sherlock stared in John's deep, chocolate colored eyes with adoration. He loved this man. No matter what happened, he would always come back for Sherlock. His gaze flickered down to John's lips- he lick the nervously- before they were interrupted.

Sherlock, John- Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking between the two of them, inches apart.

"Um- no, nothing," Sherlock replied, stepping away from John, and hastily rubbing his remaining tears away.

"Okay. Well, I just wanted to let you boys know that I'm planning to have a Christmas Eve party. You can invite all of your little friends, Sherlock."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I'll make sure to."

She nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her. Sherlock glanced at John as the doctor started to eat breakfast. Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing This Is Christmas, the violin bow going back and forth gently while Sherlock's fingers flew across the strings.

John smiled contently and sat on the sofa, drinking his tea, watching Sherlock with a look of pure love on his face.

**A/N: Review?**


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: How's the end of the world going for you all? Holding up alright?

I'm leaving on a long trip tomorrow. I'll wake up at 4am and my family and I will start driving for about 15 hours straight. Lovely.

Anyways, I'm going to try to type up tomorrow's chapter today and post it at 4am. If I can't, I'll post it next time I'm in wi-fi, which could be anytime between now and Christmas. I'll have every chapter ready and will post them once I have a few minutes in wi-fi.

Also, to the request of more Sherlock torture- that'll be next chapter. I have a plan for something happening in each chapter, and it'll work with tomorrow's. Onwards!

The next day, it was snowing really hard. The soft flakes covered every surface and coated London in a soft white blanket. John had both of them bundle up for the cold, and pushed Sherlock outside.

Laughing childishly, John opened his mouth and let the snowflakes fall onto his tongue. Sherlock watched him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the heck John was doing.

"John, why are acting so childish?"

"Because it's fun, Sherlock! Ever heard of it?"

As Sherlock huffed and turned to go inside, he felt something wet hit the back of his coat. As he turned to see what it was, another snowball hit him right on the face.

John clutched his stomach in laughter at the look on Sherlock face. Looking away was a mistake, however, as a snowball hit him right on the nose. The cold slush slid down his face and into his jacket.

And thus began the Great-Snowball-Battle-of-Sherlock-Holmes-and-John-Watson,-Men-But-Not-Really. This continued for about an hour before John fell to the ground, thoroughly soaked.

Sherlock lay beside him and took John's hand. He gazed into John's eyes, noticing some of the snowflakes had stuck to John's eyelashes.

John looked up as Sherlock took his hand. They gazed at each other for a moment, before John said, "Come on, let's go inside. I'm freezing."

They got up and went inside 221B, still clutching each other's hands tightly.


	22. Chapter 22

After they had dried off and gotten a fire going, John sat on the sofa next to Sherlock. Both of them gazed into the flames, lost in their own thoughts.

"Sherlock," John said a bit cautiously, "How do you feel about your... friends?"

Sherlock looked up, surprised at the question. "I, um, don't know. Which ones?"

John sighed and looked at Sherlock with heavy eyes. "You know. Me, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly..." he trailed off.

Sherlock gazed in John's eyes. "I appreciate you all. But, really, I don't have friends. I have acquaintances, people I enjoy being with, but not _friends_."

John let his head drop to his hands. "Yes, you do, Sherlock," he mumbled, barely audible. Bringing his head up again, he said a bit louder, "Friends are important, Sherlock. Every human needs them. And, before you say anything, I know that you aren't normal. But you still need friends, high-functioning sociopath or not. You need someone to rely on, to tell all of your secrets to."

Sherlock looked up at John at the mention of secrets. His eyes bled memories of pain.

He cleared his throat softly. "Um, John, about that..."

John looked up sharply. "What? What is it?"

Sherlock rolled up his sleeves slowly. Scars ran up and down his arms, a light pink in color. Some were long, some were deep, and some were tiny, barely visible on Sherlock's pale skin.

John gently touched them, "What happened? Who did this to you?" he gasped.

Sherlock pulled his sleeves back down and looked at John sadly. "Three years is a long time, John. A lot happened."

John gazed into Sherlock's eyes. He felt guilty that this had happened to his Sherlock. He was supposed to watch out for this man, make sure he was okay. He felt like it was his fault.

Sherlock read all of this in his flatmate's eyes. He embraced John in a hug and a quick kiss on the forehead. "It's not your fault, John. Don't blame yourself."

They just sat there for a while, laying in each other's arms.


	23. Chapter 23

John knew how sneaky Sherlock was. He knew everything about John, probably even more than John knew himself. It was almost creepy, actually.

So, hiding a present from Sherlock wasn't going to be easy.

John also knew lots about Sherlock. He was practically a child, and would probably try to find John's gift to him.

John decided to hide it under his pillow. A safe place that he would notice if it was moved. The gift was wrapped, but John didn't doubt the man's ability to wrap it back up the same way it was before.

It was Christmas Eve, and John just had to keep Sherlock away from his present until the party later that night. He could make sure he didn't slip away once everyone was here.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had gotten John a jumper with the words 'Consulting Detective Assistant'. It was black with light gray letters. He wrapped it in paper that had little reindeer dancing all over it. Some kind of silly thing he wouldn't understand.

He hid John's present behind the telly. He hoped John would like it. He honestly couldn't think of anything else. Surprisingly, John was hard to shop for.

Deciding to find John's gift to him before the party, Sherlock went to hunt down John with his deduction skills.


	24. Chapter 24

The guests for the party started arriving around 6. It was a lot like the last Christmas Eve party they had together, except John didn't have a girlfriend this time.

Sherlock played Christmas Carols on his violin, and John converted with the guests. Mrs. Hudson talked about the latest shows on the Telly and Greg was forced to listen.

Mycroft even made an appearance- he gave Sherlock a small box and left quickly after Sherlock gave him one.

The decorations looked beautiful. The tree's lights sparkled on every surface, and a fire blazed.

John wore his Christmas jumper that he had bought earlier. He tried to make Sherlock wear his, but the detective would simply turn his head away and ignore John.

Everyone exchanged gifts, except Sherlock and John. They had agreed to give each other gifts on Christmas morning.

Molly had given Sherlock some experimenting equipment. Lestrade had given him a fake ID, and Mycroft had gotten him some music to play on his violin. Mrs. Hudson had baked cookies for everyone to take home.

John had received books from Molly, ammunition from Lestrade, and Mycroft had sent him a new coat. John didn't really want to know how the elder Homes new his size.

Mrs. Hudson served dinner to everyone around 7. They had turkey with mashed potatoes, and a wonderful cake for dessert.

People started leaving around 10. Lestrade was the last to leave, waving a simple 'goodbye' to them before departing. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs.

After everyone was gone, Sherlock and John stayed up late. They lay on the sofa in each other's arms, just happy to be together.

John's head lay in Sherlock's chest. He could hear the taller man's heartbeat, and it lulled him into sleep.

Sherlock stroked John's hair softly. The small man was asleep, and Sherlock didn't want him to leave. Ever. He wrapped his arms around John's torso as they lay there. He buried his head in John's neck and breathed in his scent. Laying a soft kiss on John neck, Sherlock slipped easily into sleep.

They laid together until morning, when Sherlock woke up to John's soft breath on his neck.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! My present to you all is a longer chapter! I decided to end this story on New Years. Maybe New Years Eve, depending on when I have wi-fi. So, don't worry- this story's not over yet! I'll see you all then!**

**There is a little kiss in this chapter, but they aren't together yet. You'll have to wit until New Years for that. Aren't I evil?**

**Also, if you guys want me to continue with a non-advent story, I could. Your choice! Onwards!**

Previously...

_Sherlock stroked John's hair softly. The small man was asleep, and Sherlock didn't want him to leave. Ever. He wrapped his arms around John's torso as they lay there. He buried his head in John's neck and breathed in his scent. Laying a soft kiss on John neck, Sherlock slipped easily into sleep._

_They laid together until morning, when Sherlock woke up to John's soft breath on his neck._

"Wake up, Sherlock! It's Christmas!" John whispered into Sherlock's ear. The taller man opened his eyes sleepily.

"Mmmphf... Five more minutes..." he murmured groggily, closing his eyes again. John chuckled, his chest vibrating, causing Sherlock to smile into John's neck.

John played with Sherlock's hair while he waited for his flatmate to wake up. He twisted the long locks around his fingers, smiling slightly at the softness of his hair.

"Ready to get up now?" John asked sitting up. He suddenly realized that he was straddling Sherlock. Blushing a bit, he jumped up and walked over to the staircase, leading to his room.

"Where... y' goin'?" Sherlock mumbled, squinting his eyes open.

"I'm just getting your gift from my room. I'll be right back," John told him from the doorway, slipping away.

A few minutes later, when John came back in, he saw Sherlock holding another present, probably for John.

"Here you go," John told Sherlock, gently lobbing the gift towards him. Sherlock caught it without looking and threw John his gift. He walked over to John and sat next to him on the sofa.

"Open yours first!" John said, turning towards Sherlock. The detective ripped off the paper and examined the book underneath.

"Poisons! Thank you, John!" Sherlock said happily.

"As long as you use this as a guide for what _not_ to feed me, then you can keep it," John teased him.

"Now open yours!" Sherlock said, the Christmas cheer making him giddy.

John ripped off the paper for his present, and grinned when he saw the jumper. "This is wonderful, Sherlock! Thanks!" John exclaimed, pulling his flatmate into a hug. Sherlock stayed stiff for a second, before relaxing into John's arms.

After a breakfast of omelets and cereal, Sherlock and John sat on the sofa together. Suddenly, John remembered a certain decoration that Mrs. Hudson had put up on the 8th.

Glancing up at the mistletoe above their heads, John leaned over and planted a kiss on Sherlock's cheekbone.

Sherlock turned to John, thoroughly surprised. John pointed up and mumbled "mistletoe".

Sherlock kissed John's cheek in return and snuggled up against his side.

That was Sherlock's favorite Christmas. He had gotten all he wanted- John.


	26. Chapter 26 December 31st

**A/N: Hello, all! So, there with be some ****really intense**** kissing in this chapter. You have been warned! I'm moving the rating up because of this. But I will not write smut- only kissing. It's actually kind of funny- I can write serious kisses in great detail and have never had a boyfriend myself. Hmm. I guess I've read more romance fanfics than I thought. Oh, well! I hope you lovies enjoy!**

John and Sherlock had been invited to a big New Year's Eve party by Lestrade. He was even renting out a ballroom for it. Almost everyone he knew was invited. Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister, so they decided to go.

Sherlock and John arrived around 9 o'clock, when the party started. Everyone was served food and refreshments.

Sherlock really didn't see the point to parties. Everyone talking, laughing, having fun, making happy memories- it just didn't make sense. How was it enjoyable? At all?

Of course, John always loved going to parties.

John talked with people until a few minutes till midnight. By then, he had grown quite tired of trying to engage Sherlock in conversations, only to have the detective completely ignore John.

"What is your problem? Why are you ignoring everyone, including me?" John asked, pulling him away to the side of the crowd.

Sherlock gave a quiet apology. "I'm sorry, John. I just have a few things on my mind at the moment."

John nodded. He knew how he felt. "Okay, then. But will you at least act alive?"

"I assure you, I am very much alive. I just don't understand parties."

John scoffed, and Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing. Just, you do seem the kind of person to not follow traditions. Do you even know what people do on New Year's?"

"Drink wine?"

"No, you idiot. At midnight, people drink champagne. Sometimes they kiss." At this, Sherlock raised an eyebrow, slightly befuddled.

"Why on Earth is it a tradition to kiss on New Year's?"

"I don't really know for sure, actually. Probably something to do with it being the beginning of the year, and they want it to start with a kiss with the person they love. They might think it brings them good luck."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this. "There is no such thing as luck. You should know that."

"I do, Sherlock. I've never actually kissed anyone on New Year's. My girlfriends have always broken up with me by then." At this remark, Sherlock looked a bit surprised.

"Well, there is one tradition we could do," John suggested.

"And what would that be?"

"Counting down!" John said, turning towards the large digital countdown clock on the wall close to them. It read '30 seconds'.

John started counting down. As he got to five, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Sherlock was staring at him.

When he reached zero and the crowd erupted into cheers, he turned to Sherlock to see what the detective was doing. However, as soon as he faced the detective, Sherlock's lips were on John's. His lips were as soft as a feather, and moved lightly against his own. John's eyes fluttered closed.

A moment later, Sherlock pulled back and gazed into John's eyes. Sherlock's were full of want, reluctance, and love. John looked deeply into those beautiful, blue-gray eyes, and pulled Sherlock into a deeper, more passionate kiss.

John moved his lips rhythmically against Sherlock's. He linked his arms around Sherlock's neck and felt the other man's arms wound around his waist. John tangled his hands in Sherlock's long, soft hair.

Sherlock opened his mouth slightly and ran his tongue along John's top lip and John opened his mouth willingly. Sliding his tongue in John's mouth, Sherlock explored every inch of John's mouth. John heard a low moan, and surprised to find that it came from him. He pressed his chest against Sherlock's and deepened the kiss, sucking on Sherlock's lower lip. The people and noises around them faded from John's senses as Sherlock ran his hands through his hair.

Sherlock let out a groan that sent wonderful warm feelings into John's stomach. He clutched Sherlock's arms tightly in response.

Sherlock reluctantly pulled away. He was lightheaded and needed some air. He pressed his forehead against John's and gazed into his eyes. They were darker and hungry.

Sherlock moved his head down to John's neck and breathed on it hardly. He nibbled on John's neck softly and bit harder when John pressed his waist against his own.

Someone cleared their throat behind them. Sherlock pulled back to see a shocked crowd staring at him. Lestrade was holding a broken glass and Molly looked affronted.

Taking John's hand, Sherlock announced that they were going home, unable to hide the huskiness in his throat.

John smiled and planted a soft kiss on Sherlock's neck as they climbed into the cab. Sherlock smiled back and took John's hand as they drove off.

When they arrived at the flat, Sherlock pressed John against the doorway that led to their sitting room. Dipping his head low to kiss John neck, he wrapped his arms around John's waist again.

John's breath hitched and he clutched the back of Sherlock's jacket. He moaned in happiness and felt his knees go weak.

"Come on," John told him huskily, opening the door to the sitting room. He quickly made his way to the sofa. Sherlock was behind him. John sat down, and Sherlock moved John's legs so he was laying across the sofa.

Sherlock got on top of John and straddled the shorter man. He leaned in closer to John's face and grinned, before kissing him deeply. John groaned again.

Sherlock started unbuttoning John's shirt. He fiddled with the buttons and breathed hard on John neck. John closed his eyes, then opened them again to start unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. His fingers shook, but he got it off. By now, John's shirt was off also. He pressed his chest against Sherlock's and ground their waists against each other. Sherlock moaned in pleasure and gripped John's arms, relishing in the wonderful shivers John sent down his spine.

John brought their lips together again and sucked on Sherlock's top lip, biting it. Sherlock moved his lips against John's and tilted his head to the side to make it easier to kiss John.

The heat that was radiating off of the men was boiling. John pulled away to breath for a moment, but soon resumed kissing as soon as Sherlock bit and sucked on his neck. John pulled his arms around Sherlock's back and pressed their torsos together. Sherlock closed his eyes and moaned. This caused John to grip Sherlock tighter. He pressed his whole body against Sherlock and kissed him deeply, his tongue in Sherlock's mouth. As John pulled away, Sherlock started unbuttoning John pants.

Finally, a tiny voice of logic appeared in John's mind.

"Maybe... W-we should... take this to... the b-bedroom," John said, his voice deep and raspy.

Sherlock agreed, so they stood up and quickly stumbled their way to Sherlock's bedroom.

The next morning, John came out of Sherlock's room with the other man's dressing gown on. It was to long for him and trailed on the floor by his feet, but he didn't really have anything else to wear. A few minutes later, Sherlock emerged wearing his pajamas. He sat on the sofa and John sat beside him. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John and the ex-army doctor leaned into his side.

John buried his nose in Sherlock's neck and sighed happily. Sherlock relaxed his shoulders and leaned his head on top of John's.

"So, I guess we're... 'together' now, right?" Sherlock asked, unsure about anything to do with relationships.

John nodded into the crook of Sherlock's neck. "Yeah. Finally. I've been waiting for this forever, it seems."

"Me, too," Sherlock agreed and kissed the top of John's head.

They lay there for most of the day, content with the fact that they were finally a couple.

**A/N: Hello again! Sorry, I just didn't want a huge AN at the top, so I'll finish here.**

**I've decided to continue this story! The next one will be called 'By Your Side'. And because I'm nice and don't want you all to have to author alert me just to get to the next story, it's either currently posted or I'm hitting post right now. It will have more of a plot than this one does.**

**And while you guys are looking through my stories, I have a story called 'Nightly Ritual' that is another Sherlock fic. It has a pre-Sherlock John who's very sad and a bit suicidal. If you guys want angst, check that one out.**

**Also, I might have posted it already, I might have not- I'm writing this on the 27th so I have no idea what my future self will do/has done- is a story that is complete and utter Johnlock. It will be a collection of oneshots I write while I am procrastinating 'By Your Side'. **

**I hope you all like my other stories, and I loved each and every follow, favorite, and review! Goodbye!**


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